‘I matched five numbers and the bonus ball a couple of weeks ago, didn’t I?’ Reenie patted her handbag as if her Lotto winnings were safely tucked inside. Even though they’d only been acquainted for fifteen minutes, Sophy wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a million quid in there. ‘About time I retired. I’m not getting any younger.’
‘Nonsense. You always say that you’ve got the energy of a woman half your age,’ Phoebe said, panic rising in her voice. ‘You, retire? Don’t be silly.’
‘Already put a deposit down on a new-build bungalow in Bournemouth. Lovely sandy beaches,’ Reenie said, finishing the last of her tea with a gulp and a delicate burp. ‘So, can you tell Freddy to put my cheque in the post? I’ll be in Paddington for another week or so and can one of you get me a cab or one of those Ooobers?’
Anita ordered Reenie an Uber while Phoebe begged her to reconsider the Bournemouth bungalow. ‘Or we could even courier the clothes down to Bournemouth. I mean, what are you going to do with yourself?’
Phoebe sounded like she was about to get down on her knees and beg. But Reenie was not for turning. When her Uber turned up, Phoebe escorted her out of the door, still extolling the virtues of how important it was to keep your mind and your sewing fingers active.
‘Wow,’ Sophy said to Anita once Reenie and Phoebe were out of the door. ‘That was… I don’t even know what that was.’
‘That was Reenie, our repairs and alterations lady. She used to work for Hardy Amies,’ Anita breathed in hushed tones. ‘We have three brides coming in for fittings next week. What are we going to do, Pheebs?’
Phoebe was back in the shop, ashen-faced and wringing her elegant hands like she was wringing someone’s neck. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly, seemingly one syllable away from losing it completely. ‘We’ll have to tell Johnno. Has anyone even seen Johnno this week? Sophy?’
They both looked at Sophy, who shook her head. ‘Johnno and I don’t have the sort of father–daughter relationship where we keep track of the other’s whereabouts.’
‘I’ll talk to Freddy,’ Phoebe said with a sigh. ‘Though will he be able to source a fitter with Reenie’s knowledge and expertise? Highly unlikely.’
‘What are we going to do about our brides?’ Anita asked. She sat down heavily on the nearest sofa. ‘There’s no way that Judith Tavernier can wear that ivory dress with the gold trim as is. It needs a good eight centimetres off the hem.’
‘And the beadwork on that Ronald Paterson is a hot mess,’ Phoebe said, coming to sit next to Anita.
Sophy thought they both might cry. She knew nothing of the dresses or the brides, and she still hadn’t even been allowed upstairs, but she felt a bit hysterical herself. Still, it wasn’t like she was responsible for sorting this out. She wasn’t a senior sales associate any more. She was just a girl on a temporary tax codewho could only be trusted with the most menial tasks while she saved up the money for her ticket to Australia.
But then again, saving up would take weeks, and Sophy was meant for more than menial tasks. It would be good to get a tiny bit of respect round here. Also, as one of the senior sales associates of a flagship Oxford Street store, she was used to having to put out fires. Once quite literally, when a bin of returns started smouldering.
‘We cannot be responsible for sending brides down the aisle in substandard vintage,’ Phoebe exclaimed. She sounded even closer to tears. ‘Our reputation would be ruined!’
‘Guys! Guys!’ Sophy said excitedly, daring to venture out from behind the desk to the forbidden land of the shop floor.
‘Can you even imagine, a bride on her most very special day, realising that there’s a hook and eye missing?’ Anita gasped as if she’d experienced something similar.
‘Don’t, Anita! It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Guys! There’s no need to worry. I know the perfect person to replace Reenie,’ Sophy butted in. ‘You’ll love her.’
‘You know a perfect, lovable alteration person who’s as talented and skilful as Reenie who worked at Hardy Amies for thirty years?’ Phoebe’s voice was back to its usual setting: dripping with disdain.
But, for once, Sophy was undaunted. ‘I do, I really do. I’ve got this!’
Chapter Four
Phoebe had still been very doubtful about Sophy’s ability to rustle up a Reenie replacement but, after much umming and ah-ing, she magnanimously granted permission for Sophy to come in late after she’d spoken to the candidate.
‘Somehow I suppose we’ll manage without you,’ she’d sniffed. She really was a colossal cow.
Of course, Sophy could have arranged things over the phone, but that would have needed the person to actually answer their phone rather than shy away from it when it started ringing. And if Sophy had tried messaging or email, then they’d definitely try to wiggle out of it.
No, the best way was face to face, which was why the next morning Sophy travelled to one of her least favourite places in London.
The Museum of Religious Relics was situated down a back street in Chelsea. The turretty, red-brick house had been bequeathed to the museum by someone very rich and very religious. Certainly, the museum would never have been able to afford such vast premises in such an expensive postcode otherwise.
Sophy slipped through the door, already anticipating the smell of church and mice droppings that permeated the air. She hurried past a display of plaster-cast saints experiencing various kinds of torture, then slipped through a door markedPrivate.
No one challenged her because the museum was chronically understaffed. They didn’t even have a security guard. Then again, who would want to steal a plaster-cast effigy of Saint Sebastian with a gazillion arrows piercing his narrow chest? No one, that’s who.
Behind the scenes at the museum was a rabbit warren of passageways and storerooms. Sophy eventually found what had originally been the servants’ stairs back in the day when it was a private residence, and hurried down them to the shadowy, airless basement. In a tiny windowless room, hunched over a sewing machine, with a not-fit-for-the-purpose lamp trained on what she was doing, was the person Sophy had come to see.
